


In The Cold Light Of Dawn

by alassenya



Series: Pride, Passion and Prejudice [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 06:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15309909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alassenya/pseuds/alassenya
Summary: In which Haldir is outmatched and Legolas outraged. (follows on immediately from Winter Fires)





	In The Cold Light Of Dawn

_Mirkwood, 2487, November_

They hadn't slept. As the firelight dwindled to a red glow in front of them, they lay in each other's arms, sated, tired, and happy. From time to time a hand would move in a soft caress, and a kiss would be pressed to silken skin. Neither spoke.

Haldir watched the flames flickering in the hearth, every flame casting a shadow against the wall. Flame and shadow ... a good omen or bad? He was uncertain now, a little afraid of the depth of the emotion that had kindled in his heart. He had loved many times, but always in a light and friendly fashion. Never had he felt this all-consuming passion for another. What good could come of it?

He had had a vision, when Legolas had asked him. His vision had clouded, and through the flames he had seen an image: the prince looking at him, his eyes dark and sad, watching him walk away. He felt the anguish in the prince's heart and longed to turn back to comfort him, but he knew that if he did, he would be lost forever. And yet ... and yet he felt the love that they had shared, burning as bright as any Silmaril, and he could not bear the thought of losing that, no matter how much it would cost him.

*Elbereth, help me,* he had pleaded, and felt the grace of her presence, a ghostly kiss on his forehead, and a single word in his head:

*Courage.*

And so he had given himself to the prince, and the world would never be the same again.

Legolas brushed a hand over his cheek. "Why do you look so sad?"

Haldir was silent, unsure what to say. How could he tell this radiant elf that his world had just been overturned? That he thought he had felt the presence of Elbereth herself? That he believed that their lives were now inextricably linked, more so than if they had just taken the oaths of bonding?

He frowned, worried at the implications. Any liaison between Lothlórien and Mirkwood would be fraught with difficulties, and one between two males would be dangerous, but one involving himself and the king's son would be a nightmare. He quailed at the visions his imagination conjured: of Thranduil declaring war on Lothlórien; of Legolas being disinherited, or banished, or imprisoned; of Celeborn and Galadriel disowning him to save their realm.

He roused himself with an effort, and smiled. "It troubles me that your father and brother may not look kindly on this connection between our lands. It may cause difficulties when they find out."

Legolas frowned as he contemplated their likely reaction, then shrugged. "Then we won't tell them.

"Do you wish to keep this a secret between us, then?" The notion caused Haldir to feel vaguely uncomfortable.

Legolas paused. "I think that it may be wise, for the time being at least. Maybe you can visit more often—there are messages from Lórien every few months. Once father gets to know you a little better it might be easier to tell him."

Privately Haldir doubted that Thranduil would ever get to know him well enough to welcome him as his son's lover, but he nodded in acquiescence. "We shall have to be discreet then. No sign of affection if we are not alone. We shall have to act as mere acquaintances."

Legolas agreed. "I don't want to pretend ... but there is no point in antagonising my father or my brother." After a moment, he asked, "What about you? Are you going to tell Celeborn and Galadriel?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I'd prefer that Galadriel doesn't know about us. She scares me."

"She scares many people. It is the price of her power ... but she is truly a kind and generous person."

Legolas pouted and said, "Still ... I don't want her to know."

Haldir felt a fleeting sense of disquiet as he looked at the beautiful but petulant face. Not for the first time, he wondered if he had been wise to give into temptation and lie with the prince. Well, it wasn't wise, he knew that already, but as the minutes passed he felt more and more that this unexpected bonding was going to cause pain and suffering to many, including himself. And yet he would not have foregone the almost spiritual sense of joy and completion they had shared. It was, he imagined, as close to seeing the Light of the Trees as anyone outside Valinor could achieve.

Sighing, he lay down and pulled Legolas close to him. They had this night, if nothing else.

~~~~~

Eventually, an hour before dawn, Legolas raised his head again and met Haldir's gaze.

"We should go, love. It won't be long before people are moving about."

Haldir nodded, and they arose, laughing softly as they stumbled around donning their sleeping robes and tidying up the oil and wine.

Preoccupied as they were, they did not hear the soft footsteps that approached the kitchen, nor did they see the one who entered, for he was only there for a second before fading silently out into the halls.

Finally Legolas picked up the bearskin rug and they carried it back to the Great Hall before proceeding along the corridor to the sleeping quarters. As they reached Haldir's door they paused, and many soft kisses were exchanged before they could bear to part.

"I shall have a nap and then join you for breakfast," he smiled.

"I shall see you there. Perhaps we could visit the archery range while your father writes his reply."

Legolas grinned. "I would like that. I have practised long hours since I visited Lothlórien. I doubt that a mere point would separate our scores now."

"Don't be too sure, youngling," Haldir grinned back. "Do you think I would allow you to retain your victory? I, also, have practised!" They laughed, and Legolas walked off to his chamber.

Haldir entered his room, but walked past the bed. Unlike Legolas, he saw no point in sleeping through the dawn. He sat on the window sill, wrapped up close in the blanket that still smelled of Legolas, and watched the stars fade.

As the clouds turned pink with the sunrise, there was a knock on his door. He grinned, and went quickly to open it, expecting to see his radiant prince. His smile faded as he beheld instead the dour face of Galion, the chief steward.

"The king wishes to see you."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"I shall take a moment to dress."

Galion nodded, and Haldir closed the door, his face ashen. What on earth could the king want with him at this hour? His heart sank at the thought that someone might have found out about their tryst. He washed and dressed quickly, and joined Galion outside the door.

Galion escorted him to a Thranduil's study, an inner chamber. It was cool, like much of the king's domain, but here there was a small fireplace, presumably to keep the books from getting too damp. Thranduil sat at a sturdy desk, writing briskly on a parchment. A slender lamp stood upon the desk, casting long shadows over his face and limbs. He did not acknowledge Haldir's presence until, with a flourish, he signed his name and sprinkled sand over the wet ink. Reaching for a leather tube he rolled the parchment and inserted it, before sealing the tube with wax. Then he looked up.

"I have made my reply to Lothlórien. You must leave now and take it to them with all speed."

"Now, your majesty?"

"Yes, right now!"

Haldir almost quailed beneath the icy, furious stare of the Mirkwood king. He had faced orcs and goblins all his life but never had he beheld a stare of such malevolence.

"I would like to pay my respects to your family—" 

He was cut off as Thranduil exploded. "You will stay away from my family!"

_Oh_ , thought Haldir, _he definitely knows_.

Thranduil rose and came around to the front of the desk. He was only a couple of inches taller than Haldir, and less broad across the shoulders, but in his anger he appeared to tower over the sturdy Lórien elf.

"I will not have my son corrupted by the decadent morals of Lórien! I cannot control what your lord and lady allow in their own realm, but it will not happen here! My son will make a marriage alliance of my choosing and in my time. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, majesty."

"And you, marchwarden, are no longer welcome in my kingdom. Tell that golden sss...orceress to send another messenger if she has to communicate with me in future."

Haldir bowed in acknowledgment, wondering what word Thranduil had originally intended to use. Not sorceress, certainly. Snake? Strumpet? Slut? Surely not! He felt anger rising within him, but as his gaze met that of Thranduil's, he reminded himself that he was not here to start a war between Lothlórien and Mirkwood, however much he might want to punch that livid face.

Thranduil thrust the message tube at him, like a sword. Haldir exerted his iron self-control and merely bowed his head again, taking the document. He turned and left, making sure that his movements were as smooth and graceful as they had ever been.

Once outside, he let out his breath. He had to see Legolas, immediately. He turned to make his way to the prince's room, but Galion was there in front of him, with another servant by his side.

"Sulion will help you pack your things, Marchwarden. I have called for your horse, and it should be ready in a few minutes."

Haldir nodded serenely in acknowledgement, but cursed inwardly at the way the king had outwitted him. He could see that he would not be left alone in the few minutes that he had left in the king's halls. There would be no opportunity to see Legolas, or to leave a message for him, however much he wanted to. He gritted his teeth and followed Sulion down the corridor to his room.

It only took a few minutes to collect his clothes and combs and pack them into his bag, then to don his cloak. He looked longingly at the blanket, the blanket that even yet smelled of the passion that he had shared with Legolas. He reached out a hand to touch it again, but the servant was waiting impatiently by the door. He turned and walk out of the room.

The horse was waiting for him by the great doors. He secured his bag, mounted and turned the mare to look one last time at the rambling dwelling. No golden head appeared at any window, no flurry of activity indicated that Legolas might be aware of what was happening.

~~~~~

Galion slapped the horse's rump, and she took off at a canter, carrying Haldir away. He watched until the blond head was out of sight, then returned to Thranduil's study.

The king was standing by the fire, gazing into the flames. He appeared to be deep in thought; so much so that Galion was not sure that he had heard the steward enter. He coughed, nervously.

"Yes?" Thranduil started, and for a small fraction of a second his face was filled with suffering, before the customary disdain replaced it. He turned to face the steward.

"The messenger had left, sire. Shall I summon Prince Legolas?"

"No. Say nothing. Let him think that the Lórien elf left of his own accord."

"As you wish, sire." He bowed to go, but was stopped by a gesture from the king.

"Make sure that all messengers from Lórien have their bags thoroughly searched in future. I want no letters or greetings to pass to Legolas except through me. And tell all of our own messengers that no letter of any description is to be sent from this hall except on my personal authority. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sire." Once more he turned to go, and was again stopped.

"Tell your staff that no one is to wake Legolas this morning. He is to be allowed to sleep as long as he wishes."

"Sire." This time his exit was uninterrupted. Once outside, he sighed. He knew his duty, and served his king well, but sometimes he pitied the king's family. The next few years would be difficult for the young prince.

~~~~~

Legolas woke up hours later, the memory of his night with Haldir filling him with warmth. He smiled lazily as he stretched, thinking of how best to get the marchwarden into his bed that night. He felt the soreness of his body and smiled more widely, in anticipation of bruises being soothed and renewed. He felt wonderful for having had so little sleep!

But there was something else strange about this morning. He looked around his room. The light was not that of early morning, nor was the birdsong he could hear. What hour was it? He rose, and looked out of his window. It had to be nearly midday! Why had he not been woken yet?

He strode to door, and opened it, shouting for hot water. Once washed and dressed, he hurried to the dining hall, where he found the usual bustle of activity. There was no sign of Haldir, though of course he could be anywhere. He asked Galion if the marchwarden had made an appearance.

Galion looked acutely uncomfortable. "He left, your highness. A few hours ago."

"He left?" Legolas was bemused. "Why? I mean, why so soon?"

"I don't know. He spoke with the king, then left."

Legolas spun around and headed for his father's study.

"Father, have you seen Haldir?"

Thranduil looked up and paused, as if trying to recall who Haldir might be. "Ah, yes, the marchwarden. He spoke to me early this morning, and I gave him the reply to carry back to Lothlórien. He was anxious to be on his way once he got what he came for. A wise decision, given the weather." His eyes narrowed as he watched for Legolas' reaction to his words.

_Once he got what he came for..._ the words burned into Legolas' brain. What had he come for? Had Haldir planned merely to seduce him again? He remembered all too clearly the way Haldir had followed him to the kitchen, the way he had dominated their lovemaking. He remembered Haldir's long hesitation when asked if he would ever give himself to Legolas—what had he been thinking then? Had Haldir given him only the answer he wanted so desperately to hear? And was that why he had been so keen to keep their liaison be kept a secret? Had he intended all along to leave without a word?

For one in his life Legolas was thankful for the years of training that allowed him to remain expressionless as his heart cracked and he fell into a deep abyss of pain and despair. He had given himself to Haldir, body and soul. He had felt himself being born anew as part of a bonded pair, or so he had thought. He had given everything, and had received nothing in return but what appeared to be lies and false promises. Now he had nothing, not even his self-respect. He had nothing, he was nothing.

Without a word he left the room. His head was spinning and he felt faint.

_How could I be so happy then and so miserable now?_ he thought. How could so great a change be made in only a few hours? How could he have been so easily tricked? It seemed obvious to him now—the marchwarden had wanted a night's pleasure and had manipulated him into surrendering ... again. He fought back tears as he strode through the corridors, hardly noticing his direction, until he found himself in the armoury, his usual haunt when troubled.

He reached automatically for his bow, but stopped, recalling his plans to shoot with Haldir. Instead he took up his sword, caressing the cold metal of the blade, running his thumb along the edge and noting the blood that welled up. He could take this blade and end it all now—one quick thrust into his heart and he would feel no more pain. Did he have the courage to do it? Did he have the courage _not_ to do it? Did he have the strength to overcome this pain and carry on with his life?

He carried the sword out into the courtyard where several practice posts were set up. He went through the warming-up exercises and then started to rain blows onto one of the posts. The blows were slow and careful at first, but became faster and harder as anger grew, replacing despair. He was a warrior! He was a prince! He would not fade and die of a broken heart. Who was Haldir anyway?—just a soldier, a messenger, a wood-elf. He was hardly a suitable consort for the son of a king. He was not suitable. He was not worthy.

Blow after blow landed on the post as Legolas convinced himself that Haldir meant nothing to him, that their night together had represented no more than a passing attraction. He would not allow himself to love one who did not care for him. He would not allow himself to fade. He would fight, he would win, and he would never fall in love again.

Anger flowed through him, and it seemed as though the heat of it sealed the cracks in his heart and formed a shield around it. Though it was no longer whole, his heart would not break.

Eventually his arms grew weary, and he had to stop. He leaned on his sword as he contemplated the damage he had done to the post, which was leaning to one side and would have to be replaced before the next training session. He felt better. He still felt the pain, but he knew that it would not kill him now.

That evening, after he had bathed and changed, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Gone was the merry youth, and in his place was a stern-faced stranger. He grimaced. "You are a prince of Calen Glad", he told himself, "and you have duties to attend to."

He would not let anyone see his pain.

~~~~~

Galion, standing behind Thranduil, barely suppressed a gasp of shock as he caught sight of the prince's face as he entered the Great Hall and headed straight for his usual place beside the throne. Alone among those present he recognised the tense shoulders, the rigid expression, the eyes devoid of any emotion. So had Thranduil appeared after the Last Alliance, after Oropher's death on the plains of Mordor, after he had broken with Celeborn. It had taken centuries for him to heal, to find another land and another love. How long would it take for Legolas?

**Author's Note:**

> Oropher, Thranduil's father, led a host of Silvan elves to the Last Alliance and died there during the assault upon Mordor (Unfinished Tales: "The History of Galadriel and Celeborn" Appendix B). Thranduil's liaison with Celeborn is my own invention.


End file.
